


All is Undone

by StrawberryWhorecake



Series: The Inquisitor's Lion [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Love, Romance, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 19:54:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2745023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberryWhorecake/pseuds/StrawberryWhorecake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are quiet after the siege at Adamant. And in this silence Inquisitor Artemisia Trevelyan is left questioning herself and the decisions she made. In her confusion she seeks the comfort of the Commander.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All is Undone

     Jagged rocks cut into her feet as she ran. Monsters followed closely behind screeching. Noises she never fathomed echoed in her ear drowning out all thought.

_You are nothing!_ The voice shouted as she ran. _You are a fraud and everyone knows it. Your mother was right about you, Disgrace of the Trevelyans._ Artemisia lost her footing. She could feel her cheek rip open as she hit the ground. She turned, unable to move as the terror bored down on her, its scream sending chills down her spine. With its arm raised, it moved to strike her.

     She awoke screaming as the blow it. Her heart racing, her body covered in a cold sweat. Artemisia glanced around fretfully. She was home. Skyhold. In her quarters, the fire crackled and gave off a warm glow. Outside the wind howled against the large glass doors. They shook from the force of the gale. When her body finally stopped trembling she stood, pulled the blanket around her and walked to the balcony. The cold air on her skin refreshed her. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes.

     She had only been back a few days after the assault at Adamant. Everyone had questions. Questions she did not want to answer, things she did not want to think about. She gave Leliana her written report and refused to speak of the matter with anyone else.

     Artemisia felt a fool for being shaken so easily. She had survived, which was more than could be said of Stroud. She had no right to complain. No right to feel this way, yet she did. Demons haunted her dreams and kept her awake every night. She had drifted off several times during her meeting with the Advisors that morning. Josephine droning on and on about the delicate political matters of the nobles barely concerned her as it was; without sleep she could not even feign interest. Cullen would slightly nudge her as he eyed her with unease.

     She had barely spoken to him since they returned. He found her shortly after the battle at Adamant when she managed to steal a moment for herself during the commotion. Her face turned red at the memory of the commander catching her retching behind a stone pillar. He stood silently until she finished and pulled her into a tight embrace. He did not speak or inquire, he merely held her there for a few moments. It grounded her in that moment, gave her strength to survive the journey home.

     She glanced across the courtyard, a soft glow emitted from his windows. She smiled. He always worked late. The remnants of her nightmare still haunted her thoughts. The longer she stood in silence the more power they had over her. Artemisia left her chambers, the duvet still wrapped tightly around her shoulders and dragging across the stones as she traversed the battlements towards Cullen’s office.

     She knocked softly and her heart jumped when he called out.

     “Yes?” He asked in an uncertain tone, curious about his late night visitor. The heavy door creaked as she pushed it open. His expression softened when he saw her. He looked concerned and she hated herself a little more.

      “Artemisia.” He said softly. Her name on his lips still sent warmth throughout her body. “Is everything alright?”

He dropped the quill and moved to her side. She smiled weakly.

“I Couldn’t sleep. I saw your light on.”

He returned her smile as he motioned to the large chair he abandoned. She sat and brought her knees up to her chin while she wrapped the blanket around her crouched form. Cullen returned to his writing.

“I was writing letters of condolences for the families of the soldiers we lost at Adamant.”

Her heart sank as she remembered the bodies of the men and women being piled together after the battle. She shook the memory from her head, but couldn’t stop the voice that whispered _your fault._

He dropped the quill again and looked at her, this time she could not easily pin his expression. He braced his hands on the desk as he stood.

“I read the report you gave Sister Leliana.” He said quietly. “I…I’m sorry.”

Artemisia shook her head. “Don’t. Don’t say sorry to me. I didn’t lose anything.” It was a lie. She felt lost. She felt confused and constantly frightened. His brow furrowed at her words but he did not speak on it. Instead he held up a bottle and asked. “Would you like a drink?”

“Maker, yes.” She exhaled. He smirked as he poured the ale into a tankard for her.

“So, about Adamant,” He began. She froze. “It must have been trying. Are you alright?”

She held out her hand for the mug. “I’m fine.” She said curtly, hoping that would end the conversation. He pulled the mug out of her reach and frowned at her.

“No.” He said. “No one is fine after that. That line may work on everyone else, but not me.”

He kneeled before her, his face level with her own. “If you don’t want to discuss it, I understand. But don’t lie to me and tell me you are fine.”

Artemisia sighed and fought back tears. “I feel terrible. Confused. Disturbed. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

Cullen gave her a half smile as he handed her the ale. “Fair enough.” He stood and made his way back to the desk to continue his writing. She drowned the liquor while listening to the scratching of the quill on parchment. She watched him write, his gaze intent. She set the mug down beside her and dropped her face onto her knees, thankful for the warmth of the blanket against her frozen cheeks.

Cullen must be disgusted with her. Here she was wallowing in her own despair while he wrote letters the families of dead men. Dead. She was alive. What could she possibly complain about when she had her life when so many did not? Her actions, her decisions had led to the death of so many young lives. What did Cullen want from her? She couldn’t tell him about the Fade, about demons trying to possess her mind, trying to shake her will. She could not tell him about memories she did not want being returned to her. He had gotten worse than her in the Circle. She couldn’t tell him about the nightmares either. Cullen had nightmares of his own. He never spoke of them but she had seen the shaken look in his gaze some mornings.

What right did she have to moan when so many others had it far worse? He must hate her, so many of his men were dead because of her and now she couldn’t sleep because of the memories of the Fade. The things whispered in the back of her mind the thoughts that still crept up on her in her waking moments.

Artemisia didn’t hear Cullen’s footsteps as he moved closer to her. Her mind was in its own confused state. She thought he was disgusted with her, but then she felt his warm lips in her hair. The kiss was gentle, yet it shook her resolve and the tears fell unbidden. Her body shook with silent sobs.

Cullen said nothing. He moved before her and she fell into his arms. He said nothing as she sobbed uncontrollably, he merely held her.

“It’s my fault.” She choked between sobs. “They are dead because of me. If I had been better or…or faster. If I had killed that Magister in the Approach they would still be alive. And now I can’t even face them. I can’t face my friends. Everything that demon said about me in the Fade is true. I am a fraud. I am a disgrace. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. These nightmares haunt me but what right do I have to feel wronged? I am alive when others are not. I should not feel this way. They want me to lead, but this is not how leaders act.”

Cullen pulled away and held her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him.

“Soldiers know the risk they take. To our army the cause is greater than their lives. It’s greater than our lives. They do not blame you, they blame Corypheus. You cannot diminish your suffering because you think the suffering of others is greater. You are not a fraud. You led an army to attack and you succeeded. You grant justice when it was called for and mercy when it was needed. You are not a stone, unaffected by tumultuousness around you. You make the difficult decisions that no one else can. You are a leader in every essence of the word.”

Artemisia buried her head in the fur of his cloak. She was too embarrassed to hold his intense gaze, the gaze that made her feel strange emotions that she did not understand.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were having nightmares?” He mumbled, his deep voice sending tremors through her body.

“You have nightmares.” She sniffled. “It seemed wrong to burden you.”

He laughed quietly. “If you can handle my lyrium withdrawals, I can handle your burdens.

Artemisia choked out a laugh.

They were silent for a moment. “Don’t feel like you have to shoulder this weight alone. The Inquisition is here for you.” He said before adding in a quieter tone. “I am here for you.”

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him even tighter, never wanting to let him go. When they finally broke their embrace she laid her head back against the chair, suddenly tired, feeling lighter than she had only hour before. She smiled through her heavy lidded eyes. He sat there with her until she drifted off.

 

Cullen watched Artemisia as her chest rose and fell with the deep breaths of sleep. Her red cheeks were now stained from her tears. How the woman thought she could bear these problems on her own was beyond him. He sighed and turned back to his desk. He stared idly at the letters he had been writing. His concentration had been broken. Now his thoughts revolved around the woman sleeping in his chair. He knew the moment he saw her after the battle at Adamant that something had shaken her. The sight of Artemisia on her knees heaving in a ditch broke him.

The door opened. Cullen frowned at the intruder.

“Don’t you knock?” He asked the mage.

“Never.” Dorian said smirking. “The best gossip comes from intrusion, or so I hear.”

Cullen snorted. Artemisia shifted in the chair but didn’t wake. Cullen motioned to the door and Dorian followed. He shut it quietly behind him.

“I went to check on her.” Dorian said. “This afternoon she insisted that she was fine even after the events at Adamant.” He sighed. “I was there. I know what happened. No one is ‘fine’ after that. I know I’m not.”

Cullen nodded. “I read the reports, but I am sure they are nothing compared to what you experienced. The pain and the fear. Then there is the constant feeling that your reality is an illusion. That feeling follows you for months and you keep expecting to wake up in the middle of it again.”

“Sounds like you have experience with this sort of thing.” Dorian leaned against the stone wall, looking over the army camps in the mountains below. Cullen said nothing.  They stared silently at the fires in the encampment below.

Dorian sighed and pulled away. “She was bound to break. I’m just glad she wasn’t alone when it happened.”

Cullen nodded as the man walked away. “You seem to care a great deal for her, Dorian.”

The mage halted and turned. “I don’t often make friends. I try to take care of the few I manage to collect. Now that one is dead, I have to make sure the other doesn’t follow suit.”

Cullen smiled wordlessly.  Dorian turned and made his way down the battlements to the keep. “Dorian.” He called out. Dorian glanced over his shoulder. “A game tomorrow? A chance to break my streak of victories and regain some dignity?”

Dorian smiled. “Bask your pride now, Commander. For tomorrow I will break it.”

 

Artemisia dreamed that night, but not of demons and failures. There were no battles or deaths. She was silently lifted in strong arms. She buried her face in the thick fur of the creature as it chuckled quietly. She was carefully placed back in her large bed and tucked into its warmth. She remembered the fire growing and cracking as it was stoked. The warmth of the room sent her into a deep sleep. But she  recalled the faintest of kisses placed upon her lips before she drifted away.


End file.
